There was a boy from Santaquin I my drafting class who was never a
close friend but we were always friendly and he was a pervert. I am
not so sanctimonious as to keep all of my humor out of the gutter but
I dealt mainly in double and even triple entendre, euphemism and
innuendo. This young man's method was much more blunt, crude and crass. There was one
girl in my class, I am not saying 'one' in the sense that I am
referring to her among many, I mean she was the only one. That is
often the case in technology classes there would be one or none girls
and plenty of testosterone. So this one girl that was learning to
draft with the rest of us and the boy from Santaquin was running a
non-stop stream of inappropriate sexual questions and jokes. She was really
good-natured about the sexual harassment and was usually just
laughing and telling him to shut up. She may have had extra tolerance
for that type of thing based on her family situation which was a
little less then traditional in that it included a lot more drugs,
alcohol and righteous living than is average. One weekend my naughty
classmate had been at a party over the weekend with the girl, her
family and friends consuming illegal drugs and alcohol and e had
observed her making out with an older boy. When the teacher left the
room for a tick he started in full bore talking about it making
accusations and insinuations much more loudly than usual because
there was no oversight of any kind. The teacher who was taking care
of some kind of business was listening in over the PA system and came
storming back in to put a stop to the shenanigans. I had not really
been paying much attention to this boy and his ritual ribaldry so I
was really surprised when a pretty flustered and fairly enraged
drafting teacher grabbed me by the shirt and under my arm and marched
me into the other room and looked right into my eyes. He was staring
intently into my eyes and with his rudimentary skills of body
language observation saw I was not sure what was going on. He was
squeezing my arm and breathing hard from his jog and he asked me,
“Was it you?”. I was honestly and without guile confused about
what was me. I told him so and he was incredulous.
“It wasn't you?”
“I don't know what you are talking about”, I said and I was
racking my brain about my sins and misdeeds trying to think of what
he could mean.
He told me to stand right there and that he was going to go ask the
class if it was me and if it was I was going to be in double the
trouble. I hoped whatever it was, was not something that had slipped
my mind and I had unintentionally denied. He went back to the other
room and I heard them talking for a bit and then he came back in to
where I was standing in the shop and told me he was sorry it was not
me and he had made a mistake. He never told me what it was and I went
back to class. It was not until I had a second out in the hall after
class that the other kids told me that he was talking about something
the other boy from Santaquin had said to that girl about her breasts.
They told me what it was and I was frankly offended that my teacher
was so tone deaf as to not only misrecognize my voice but the
material was so second rate that I would never make a stupid joke
like that. I was happy though that I had not been implicated in the
scandal and received no punishment. Which was a little victory.
